


Regret, Retry, Regret

by forgetme



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Grief/Mourning, Multi, Pre-Canon, Soul Bond, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-02
Updated: 2014-01-02
Packaged: 2018-01-07 04:05:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1115295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forgetme/pseuds/forgetme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every Genin has to be bonded to his or her teammates, that's the rule. But what about the leftovers?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Regret, Retry, Regret

Homura was at the door of his office or, more appropriately, the three-walled construction site that the kyuubi had left him with. Hiruzen could feel his advisor’s indecision, his battling emotions, determination chiefly among them but half-submerged in sadness and… shame?  
  
Hiruzen sighed. There was a mountain of documents on his desk, listing slightly to the right, but instead of reading them, signing them and putting them in his out-box, he’d just been watching the small birds that kept flitting in through the gaping hole in the side of the building. He liked them, he decided. He also liked the warm sunlight streaming in and the smell of the forest. It was a nice day outside, which meant he couldn’t watch the rain drip down through what was left on the roof and let it drench his paperwork. The wetness would warp the floorboards, one of the carpenters hammering away downstairs had warned him, but Hiruzen found himself not caring too much.  
  
One of the little birds had hopped up onto the edge of his desk and was cocking its tiny head at him, watching him out of one black eye. He wished he had something to feed them; and maybe that meant that he really _was_ getting too old for this.  
  
“I don’t have anything to give you, I’m sorry,” he whispered to the small creature, but it just puffed up its greenish plumage and kept looking.  
  
Outside he could feel annoyance take over. Silently, Hiruzen began to count down from three.  
  
Precisely at zero the door swung open with an overly loud creak.  
“I apologize, Hokage-sama!” Despite his words, Homura didn’t look the least bit apologetic as he burst in, sending the birds into a frenzy to flee from the unknown intruder.  
  
Hiruzen watched them go, out into the sunshine and the blue sky. He wished—  
  
“Have you thought about it?” Sometimes it was difficult to disentangle the confusing web of emotions that flooded him every time he got into a disagreement with one of his former teammates, this time, however, he knew exactly where he ended and Homura began. Grief and exasperation were his, Homura was all annoyance and challenge and insecurity. They did share one thing, though. Tiredness. “Do you finally agree?”  
  
Hiruzen looked down at his empty hands resting on his dusty desktop. Oh, how he longed for his pipe. He did not enjoy this and knowing that Homura could already tell he was not going to get what he wanted didn’t make it any easier. There were times when Hiruzen wondered why they even bothered with conversations anymore. They were so close; they could almost read each other’s minds.  
  
Maybe that was why Koharu had chosen to stay downstairs and talk about further reconstruction plans with the workers.  
  
“I’ve thought about it and I don’t agree. It’s too early.”  
  
“It’s been three weeks.”  
  
“Really? It felt longer… and yet, it is still too early.”  
  
“Hiruzen!”

Pain swallowed by outrage, as clear and bright as a steel blade.  
“Homura?” he asked gently “What would you have me do?”  
“You know—“  
  
That particular rant again. Hiruzen was not going to have it this time. Not when he was sitting under a roof that had more holes than actual shingles, not when he would have to go home to his empty bedroom, not when he had a son who wouldn’t talk to him anymore.  
  
“I know and I said no. Not yet. He hasn’t recovered enough.”  
  
“You cannot want to leave him like this.” Homura shook his head. “It is not right.”  
  
 _What if I think it is right?_ He wouldn’t say it aloud, not to Homura at least, but lately… After what had happened, what they’d all been through. Maybe it was time for change. He still remembered that swell of fear that night. It had run through the village, jumping from body to body like they were nothing but scattered bits of wood in a fire. His own pain and how it had echoed back to him, how it had been amplified by Homura and Koharu. There had been resolve, too, of course, their determination and strength by his side, but maybe their forefathers had been wrong and you could have one without the other. Maybe you could trust people just by looking into their eyes, without invading their heart and soul.  
  
“It’s for the safety of the village,” Homura said and his faith in this statement was unwavering, Hiruzen could feel it, a conviction so strong it would neither bend nor break.  
  
“What about the boy? What if his mind takes permanent damage – if it hasn’t already? How would that benefit the village?”  
  
“Kakashi is a shinobi. He wouldn’t want to become the exception to a rule that was established to protect his village.” Homura took a deep breath, and there was hurt now, a flutter in his chest that wormed its way into Hiruzen like an insidious snake. “I don’t understand you, Hiruzen. Has our bond caused you this much suffering? So much that you’ve come to resent it and us?”  
  
“You know I don’t resent you.” The thought alone. Homura should have known better. “But we haven’t been through what he has had to endure twice – no, _three_ times – now. We don’t know what it’s like.”  
  
Because they had been lucky. The three of them had made it out of every mission whole. So how could they be here, making decisions like this one? He’d lost his wife, that was true, and the pain had been – still was – indescribable. Homura would know because he felt it too and so did Koharu.  
  
“It’s painful. As is most of shinobi life.” Behind his glasses Homura’s eyes were sharp and unreadable. Inside he was an open book to Hiruzen, who didn’t like what he saw. There was no softening Homura when he was like this, still, as reinstated Hokage, he couldn’t just give up.  
  
“Biwako told me once…”  
  
 _It’s like dying, Hiruzen, except that it never stops. It’s never over._ The conversation had stayed with him although it had taken place more than a decade ago. He could still see the tears running down Biwako’s face. They left a trail that gleamed in the sunlight like the polished surface of the memorial.

 She’d lost one of her teammates on a routine assignment, a mere C-Rank, back when she was ten years old. Her grief had been as fresh as if the boy had died minutes before.  
  
Hiruzen looked up into Homura’s righteous face, at his friend’s rosy cheeks, glowing with agitation, and had to admit to himself that he couldn’t imagine a world without him in it, that he couldn’t imagine the pain of losing him.  
  
“It would be worse to leave him like this, don’t you see that?” Homura barked.  
  
Hiruzen had to close his eyes for a second. Indignation burned acidic in his stomach, but it wasn’t his.  
  
“I don’t know that I do,” he said softly, bracing himself.  
  
“Hiruzen!” As expected Homura’s shock, his scandalized outrage, hit him like a punch in the gut. His eyes looked about ready to pop from their sockets.  
  
“I know you think it would be best if we could just use the jutsu to bind us all together. We’d all be connected; no one would be alone. In battle every Konoha shinobi would be attuned to everyone else. We’d fight as one.” Hiruzen got up. Still his bones ached from the fight. Three weeks. They’d felt like years and at the same time like mere seconds. It was a funny thing.  
  
 _There is no pack, just one wolf._ Where had he read that?  
  
Most nights, it had felt as if there were five people in their bed, not two.  
  
He hadn’t minded.  
  
He’d felt Koharu’s giddy excitement when she and Biwako went to pick out Biwako’s wedding dress. He’d felt the crackle of energy between them like static electricity when Koharu helped Biwako into her dress.  
  
It had felt right somehow, but then he didn’t know it any other way. But still he couldn’t lie, there were moments when he’d hated Mako, Biwako’s surviving teammate, because she would always know his wife better than he did, she would always have a piece of Biwako’s heart that was inaccessible to him.  
  
And now she was probably more heart-broken about Biwako’s death than he could ever be. At the funeral he’d thought about going to her, he’d thought about asking her—  
  
But one look at her drawn face had stopped him. She’d looked like a ghost and he realized that regardless of the truth, all she would ever tell him was that his wife’s death had been painless, that Biwako hadn’t suffered, simply because that was what Biwako would have wanted him to hear.  
  
He walked over to the hole that used to be a wall and looked out into the world. Birds were chirping in the trees, somewhere he could hear distant laughter. The academy had reopened seven days ago, he remembered. Konoha was healing.  
  
“Maybe the bond is overrated. After all it didn’t keep Orochimaru from defecting,” he offered.  
  
“Because he broke it!” Defiance, not just audible but tangible to Hiruzen, who shrugged.

 He thought of Naruto in his crib surrounded by ANBU guards. Sometimes he feared that he really had no idea what his village truly needed.  
  
“Maybe he wouldn’t have felt the need to if it hadn’t been forced on him in the first place. Anyway, it’s not like it kept Tsunade and Jiraiya from leaving.” _And I fear it won’t keep Asuma here much longer either._  
  
“What are you trying to say? That we shouldn’t have been bonded? That you wished you were free of us? Have you talked to Koharu about this?” It hurt. It hurt double.  
  
Hiruzen spun around and looked into Homura’s wide eyes. They were watery and bloodshot. The whites barely stood out against pale, papery skin anymore.  
  
 _Oh, how we’ve aged._  
  
There were days when he didn’t see it, when he looked at Homura and saw spiky brown hair and a smooth jaw, set in determination. Today was not one of those days.  
  
He took the three steps needed to close the distance between them.  
“Don’t be paranoid. You know I haven’t. And that’s not what I’m saying at all. You know I love you. Both of you.” He might have reached out and touched Homura’s cheek, caressed it even, but he knew how Homura would react to that. He would recoil and quell the eager longing blooming inside of him. It was funny; they were old now. They had nothing to lose.  
  
“Hiruzen!” Homura took a step back. _Love._ You could love the village and its ideals, but people? That wasn’t something you were supposed to admit.  
  
 _We are the pillars that support this village, Hiruzen. We have to be stone. Koharu understands._  
  
Hiruzen sighed. Sometimes he wondered how his emotions felt to them, were they really always the exact same or were they warped during transmission? Did they arrive as distorted shadows of themselves?  
  
“I know that you love me, that you loved Biwako and that you love my sons as if they were your own. I just… sometimes I wonder if that would have been the case if you’d ever had a choice in the matter.” It was tiredness speaking; he knew that. Tiredness and grief. “Don’t you?”  
  
Homura’s mouth was a thin white line, a knife’s edge. “I don’t.”  
  
 _But you do wonder, don’t you? If it was being able to feel his teammates’ resentment, their hatred and disgust that made Sakumo cut his stomach that day. I could feel your guilt for months. And even now I still feel that sting every time you look at Kakashi._  
  
Hiruzen sighed. It was true that he didn’t hate his bond with his teammates. There were times when it had saved their lives; they had been lucky in that regard. It wasn’t just that. He did love them. He always would. They were a part of him.

Kakashi, however, had lost his teammates. He’d lived through their deaths – just barely – claiming for weeks after young Obito’s tragic demise that he was still alive somewhere, and Hiruzen had never been able to shake the image of Kakashi clawing at his restraints, of Kakashi pleading with them to go look for the dead boy.  
  
Back then it had seemed like right choice to bind Kakashi to his sensei next. Minato had been strong, bright, determined and optimistic despite the losses he’d experienced. Normally an age difference as big as the one between student and teacher was considered potentially harmful, but Hiruzen had been convinced that in this particular case, Kakashi would benefit from his existing emotional bond with Minato… and also, if he was honest with himself, he had believed Minato to be a “safe” choice. Skilled, brilliant, tough, and lightening fast, he’d thought Minato would outlive them all.  
  
What a fool he’d been.  
  
Kakashi had been released from the hospital by now, but when Hiruzen had last seen him, he’d had a blank look in his eye as if a light had gone out inside of him.  
  
Maybe he did need someone.  
Maybe they all just really needed someone.  
Maybe it was as simple as that.  
  
He thought about the list of suggestions Homura had given him two weeks ago. They were all laughable. ANBU like Kakashi. Hardened warriors, honorable men and women – far more women than men, actually – sure, but neither of them had seemed right to Hiruzen.  
  
“Maito Gai,” he said, allowing Homura’s surprise and displeasure to wash over him. “They’re friends already and Gai-kun is optimistic, strong and caring.”  
  
“He’s also—“  
“It’s a good match.” He hoped. Gai-kun’s insistence on using the Lotus was a risk, but perhaps if he was partly responsible for Kakashi’s mental health, he would become more cautious, and Kakashi would hopefully benefit from Gai’s carefree nature and sheer unbreakable spirit.  
  
“Gai already has bonds with his two teammates,” Homura pointed out tersely.  
  
“I know, but they don’t need him as much as Kakashi does.”  
  
Hiruzen hoped the doubt settling in his stomach was Homura’s, he really did.  
  
end.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I actually wanted to write Kakashi/Gai soulbond and that didn't quite happen. Maybe one day I'll write a little follow up to this weird thing.


End file.
